


Warrior of Light

by Rawnaeris



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alcohol, Ambiguous Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Gen, My First Fanfic, My First Work in This Fandom, Not Canon Compliant, Patch 5.3: Reflections in Crystal Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:55:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26793229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rawnaeris/pseuds/Rawnaeris
Summary: WoL is pretty emotionally shattered after the events of Faded Memories
Relationships: Aymeric de Borel/Warrior of Light, G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch & Warrior of Light, Warrior of Light & Thancred Waters, Y'shtola Rhul & Warrior of Light
Kudos: 19





	Warrior of Light

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this before completing Reflections in Crystal, so pretend there was a chance to breathe between Eulmore and well, everything else.
> 
> First ‘fic, hope you enjoy.

_I need a drink. I need to tell him how I feel. But Fury, I need a drink._

Y’shtola is giving you a concerned look as you both leave Amaurot, but you shake your head to let her know that now isn’t the time.

You make it back to Eulmore, where Elidibus grants yet more people the Echo. Which. At least it makes sense now? Primal and Ascian. Both. Of course he’s both. What else would he be? You’re not sure why you ever expected anything else.

***

You board an airship with the rest of the Scions heading back to the Crystarium and that goes about as poorly as you expect. Which is to say, Airship crash, meteors, starshowers, fight on foot the rest of the way.

Once you finally make it there, you are dreaming of a bath, food, and preferably enough liquor to knock out a chocobo.

But. Y’shtola and Thancred know you too well. They refuse to leave you alone, following you up to your quarters in the Pendants. _Damn them_ , you think without any real rancor. And bless G’raha, for he has anticipated shit going sideways and has beat the three of you there, with a huge meal laid out on the table. You stalk past him murmuring a soft _thank you_ as you go straight to the sideboard. You pour a glass of an apple-like fruit juice and add a generous dollop of a dark amber liquor. Then a second for good measure.

You look at the other three and raise a questioning eyebrow, but they all shake their heads to the negative. Fine. More for you. _At least I’m not drinking it straight._

You join the other three at the table and bonelessly flop onto it, face down, arms dangling.

“Out with it.” Thancred growls at you.

G’raha and Y’shtola nod agreement and look at you pointedly.

You turn your head to the side more or less facing the three of them, but don’t lift it off the table.

“Elidibus....” you start, the name fading to nothing.

You decide you are entirely too sober for this conversation, so you sit up and drink 2/3 of your cocktail in one go. You feel the comfortable numbing of the sharp edges of recent memories. Better.

Y’shtola looks _displeased_ , the kind of look she usually reserves for dire enemies like Lightwardens. You squirm, it is _exceedingly_ uncomfortable having that expression aimed at you.

You start over. “Elidibus decided he needed to challenge me himself. Just us. Took ‘Shtola.” You pause, feeling the tears prick the corner of your eyes. “He took offense to the other Ascians I’ve killed. They were people special to him. He made me kill... _everyone_ special to me. In the order I met you.” You finish your drink and let your head hang limp, almost touching the table.

“‘Shtola. Yda. Papalymo. Thancred.”

Your face twists in pain, “Lucia.”

An outright sob now, “Aymeric.”

“A Nidhogg possessed Estinien.”

“Hien. Yugiri.”

“Gaius. Livia. Zenos.”

“I’ve mostly come to grips with being a murderer to protect all of you. I’ve mostly come to terms with being a murderer to protect Eorzea the continent, the abstract; the First; the Source.

But killing the ones I’ve killed to protect? The man I love?” Great wracking sobs shake you. “It very nearly broke me.” _It did break me_.

Thancred gets up, uncorks a bottle of wine, and pours the four of you glasses, “Normally I would advise against drinking your woes away, but...”

A gentle voice-Y’shtola, “Have you never told him?”

You huff through the tears, “When? The day we rescued him from the Vault and lost Haurchefant? Or the night we _tried_ to have a dinner?” Thancred winces. “Or any of the half dozen times I’ve nearly died since then? It’s not escaped my notice that I nearly always wake up in Ishgard. But the second I’m functional-not healed, not whole, _functional_ -the next crisis must be handled.”

You give a deep sigh, “I’m not bitter. Not truly, anyway. It just hurts with a fresh sharpness this night.”

G’raha gently pulls you so your head is resting on his shoulder and starts rubbing your back, “You’re allowed to feel this. You’re allowed to be angry and resentful. Own it. Then let it go so it doesn’t poison you.”

Y’shtola nods and adds, “My friend, we will all survive another night. You need a chance to rest. Clean up, _sober_ up, and get yourself to the Source. Talk to him. Make sure that if the worst were to happen, you wouldn’t be leaving behind regrets.”

“And if I’ve read everything wrong? If I destroy the relationship between the Lord Speaker and the Scions? What then?” You frown at the empty glass of wine in your hand, when did you drink it?

Y’shtola sighs, “You’re drunk. Do you really think so little of him to think _he_ , of all people, would be that petty?”

You pause, and hiccup through the tears, “No.” You rub your face, “No, you’re right. He wouldn’t.”

The other three make sure you eat, and are at least on the road to sobering up. You take that bath and get properly clean again.

You get dressed, take a deep breath, and leave for the Source.


End file.
